Unstable Stability
by Glimmitch
Summary: Takes place at the end of Mockingjay. Potential Spoilers - Johanna Mason is a strong woman, left broken and damaged from the Capitol's torture. This is who she is in secret, when nobody is watching. Though she tries, she can't hide who she is from the only other person in this world who promises to understand her pain, Peeta. Rated M for language, violent thoughts and insinuations.


_ So that's it. In the blink of an eye, I'm suddenly myself again. Or am I? I don't think the real question I should be asking is 'Am I really myself,' but 'Who am I?' Who really knows anymore? I don't even know who the Hell I am these days. I think there's one person who knows, but I'm not sure. In fact, I'm not sure of anything. It is this unrequited romance with him that causes my heart to sink, and forces these questions to my surface like a pimple on prom night. It makes me forget who I am. I have to shout at myself whenever I forget, because if I don't, I'll be gone forever._

_ I am Johanna Mason of District 7, not some mangy, lovestruck bitch in heat. That's what I tell myself, and for a moment, I feel like I did before the Quarter Quell. That's what I tell myself right before I take my fist through the mirror right before me. A piece of glass lodges its way into the back of my hand, creating a jagged lump beneath my skin, and it makes my eyes sting with tears. I let out a loud, pain filled shriek and slam my fist into the ruins again, and again, and again. The door bursts apart at the hinges and hands pull me into the darkness of the compartment. I'd recognize those hands anywhere. Strong, like the thick tree trunk of a thousand year old Redwood, yet soft like tender, delicate Balsa wood craving to be touched._

_ I sob into his chest and inhale the sweet scent of cinnamon that only he can smell of. It burns my throat as it travels to my lungs. The burn is beautiful and fierce, spreading throughout my chest like a wildfire that can't be stopped. It calms me, much to my discontent. "Peeta," I breathe, my tone changing quickly to my usual coldness as the warmth of his cinnamon begins to lose its luster, "Get the hell off me!" I push myself off of him and run as fast as my legs can take me. On my way, I run into Gale Hawthorne who, upon noticing the blood coming from my hands, decides to test his luck. "Woah, slow down Johanna. It looks like you've killed someone already... maniac," he says with a snide smirk. He looks so smug, thinking that he is the king of this proverbial castle, with that big smart ass grin. I'm just what he needs to grow up a little._

_ Before I know it, I am throwing my closed fists into his smarmy little face and erupting with a guttural war cry. My face contorts with pain as I smash the fragile bones of his nose with my knuckles, as does his. We're both screaming together in complete agony, the sounds of which alert many of District 13's peacekeepers, I'm sure. Our bodies move in sync as his lurches forward and mine down, pressing my knees deeper into his shoulders. Without realizing what I've said, I hiss down into his face, "You think you're so smart, you little pig! You wanna screw with Johanna? Well guess what, I like to play rough!" The glass in the back of my hand cuts his cheek as it brushes his thin, paper like skin and I suddenly picture myself digging my pointer and middle finger into his gaping wound and painting my face with his crimson blood. "Get her off me! Someone help! She's gone crazy," Gale screams. Someone comes to his aid, but by that time, I've already ran away._

_ I know that I am going to get punished severely for my actions, but I don't care. All I care about is hiding from myself. I want to find that happy place where I can be complete in myself, the one with the rays of warming sunshine warming my back. All of a sudden, I'm there. It's in the forest. Surrounding me are the happy chirps of bluebirds and the monotonous knocking of woodpeckers. Here, the tree trunks are entwined and twisted, creating a mesmerizing labyrinth of a green and brown paradise. Butterflies flutter around me, seeming to jump excitedly midair as I crouch through the beautifully secluded heaven in front of me. I'm genuinely happy, and then, there he is. He's smiling at me, wearing a pair of jeans, work boots, and an unbuttoned plaid shirt._

_ "Johanna," Peeta says smoothly, "I love you."_

_ I smile at him with an open mouthed, toothy grin, a soft pink blush forms on my elevated cheekbones and I lightly chuckle. Before I know it, we are navigating the puzzle, our gaze never broken. Our passion meets in the form of a hungry kiss, exchanging emotions through the brush of a soft pair of lips. We allow ourselves to become truly vulnerable to one another's inviting embrace as we strip ourselves of inhibitions. Our two worlds collide majestically as his hands slide across my shoulders and down my arms sensuously. It's perfect._

_ Rain begins to fall. Gently at first, and I begin to quiver in fear as the drops hit my skin. It burns. I scream out in total agony, but Peeta wraps his arms around me. "Shh," he reassures me, "It's alright." For a few moment's it is alright, for the first time. The precipitation thickens and begins to soak every inch of my body. Each drop is like a splash of acid on my skin. I beg Peeta to help me, but his protective arms release me into the wild; Cold, wet, and alone. The water washes my paradise away, like a painting submerged in the sea. I'm left in a puddle of mud, shivering, scared, and huddled into the fetal position in an attempt to feel some security, but there is none._

_ Once more, my surroundings begin to change. I am still naked, wet, and alone, but this time I am in an all white room. The tiles are freezing against my already icy skin, and they stick to my skin, which has since turned cornflower blue. I am laying over a drain, which leaves deep, red imprints on my skin. I walk to the wall and touch it, it's cold. All of them are, except for a singular wall, laying on the east side of the room. I touch it, and it's warmth nearly burns my skin. I instantly know why._

_ "Peeta," I scream, "Peeta, can you hear me?" I hear his hand violently slam into the wall and for a moment, feel safe at the knowledge that he is there... until I realize that I can't reach him. "Peeta," I scream again. "I l-," I am cut off by the thick stream of ice water blasting by body apart like a grenade to the gut. Ice crystals stick to my skin and ironically burn the pale and fragile skin where they make their unforgiving impact. They melt slowly, only to be replaced by hundreds more as the men in white continue to engulf my body in this freezing water. Inches away from going into shock, I do the only thing I know and I cry. I cry more than I ever have in my entire life, and Peeta can hear me._

_ Subtle sounds of conversation make their way to me, and I shake my head in terror. They aim their hose at me again, and I attempt to crawl away. As I crawl, I almost feel my veins snapping in half like icicles. I hear sadistic laughter, and then I hear nothing, nothing but the rushing sound of water as it permeates my shell. It's warm this time, however, since my skin is the temperature of an ice cube, the warm water begins to melt my skin away. Or so, it feels like it is. "Stop," I gargle as my lungs are forced to take in water. It sears and scorches on it's way down, tearing my esophagus and asphyxiating me in the process._

My body jumps awake, only for me to find that my situation isn't much better. I'm alone, swimming in a puddle of my own sweat and blind from the sharp white light coming in from my windows. My nostrils burn with a sharp odor that I know is coming from my damp body, and I know it's time for the dreaded sponge bath. The images of my torture comes back to haunt me, and I am momentarily frozen in bed, trembling once more and spaced out completely. So long as all of this happens in the privacy of my own compartment, I have no problem giving into the fear. If only I was indeed alone. During all of the confusion, Peeta managed to sneak into my room completely unnoticed. I am shivering, starting to get cold as the air hits my sweating skin.

"Jo, everything okay?" Peeta's sweet voice startles me, and I jump, feeling my heart cease beating and my lungs forget to expand. Upon the realization that it was only Peeta, I give him a fraudulent smile and nod at him. "Yep, yep," I reply coolly, "Very okay. You?" As he answers, I tune out somewhat, feeling completely embarrassed, and I take a moment to recompose myself under the guise of a listening ear. "Glad to hear it," I say dismissively and wander aimlessly into my en suite bathroom. Peeta's soft chuckle from the other room follows me, though I continue into my bathroom unaffected.

"Right," he says suspiciously, "If I'm boring you, you could just save us both time and tell me." Leave it to Peeta to make a self-deprecating joke with a smile. It's probably his best quality, one that I wish I could share with him. Instead of self-deprecating, I aim towards insulting others, although, these days I steer clear of insulting Peeta. After what the pair of us have been through together, it seems rather unfair. Reassurance isn't something I'm used to, but I find myself saying, "You don't bore me Peeta, not anymore. I'm pretty sure we're beyond that. I've just had an awful morning is all, it's not you."

Peeta understands. That statement is more than I can say about anyone else in the entirety of Panem. Except Finnick, but my best friend is gone, never to share his radiant smile with the world again. Automatically, I frown into the mirror in front of me. The most difficult part of my mornings is gathering the strength to turn the faucet on. I know that it's not going to be electrocuted, but I'm terrified all the same, terrified like Peeta was when he first saw Katniss again. Finally, I slowly begin to turn the faucet on and the water splashes into the basin below. From behind me, Peeta's voice chirps, "You're getting faster." Truth be told, it's because of his presence.

"Who knows. Maybe someday I'll swim again, but until then," I begin to say, grabbing the washcloth and cautiously dipping it under the water. There's only one problem, I've only turned on the hot water. My first instinct is to roughly jerk my hand from underneath the water and into the air, and I do just that. Midway through the air, my hand collides with the item to my left, and I feel a sharp, piercing sensation running through the length of my hand. The sensation feels dim by comparison to the burning I feel in my fingertips from the water, and though it only made brief contact, the water seems to linger on my fingers like fur on a kitten.

Peeta rushes to my side and protectively puts an arm around my back, effectively preventing me from falling backwards into the tub, where I would have no doubt panicked even more. "Shh, don't worry Johanna, I've got you. You're not going anywhere." Suddenly, none of my injuries or my fears mattered, the only thing I could focus on was the warm scent of cinnamon on Peeta's breath.


End file.
